It was a random Tuesday afternoon in September 2004. I remember this day so vividly, almost as if it happened yesterday. I got off the school bus and instead of my dad being there as usual it was my grandma. Excitement swoll up inside of me, but it immediately suppressed when I saw her face. She looked serious, so serious she almost looked angry. I got off the bus and slowly walked over to her, careful not to act too excited because I could tell something was wrong. She took my hand and told me that when we got home my parents had something to tell me. Immediately, I thought they were getting divorced. At the time my best friend’s parents just got divorced so I knew what it was, but I thought it happened to everyone’s parents. I was so sure they were getting divorced that I was practicing what I would say to make them feel better in my head the entire walk back. Looking back on this day, I can only wish that divorce was the topic of discussion. I remember walking in the door and seeing both of my parents sitting on the couch. My dad looked just as serious as my grandma and my mom looked like she had been crying. I go in and silently sit on the couch across from them and I patiently wait for those three words, “we’re getting divorced.” However, what I hear instead is, “Amy, do you know what death is?”
It was then explained to me that my father suffers from seizures and that any of these seizures could be enough to kill him. I often look back and wonder why my parents chose to tell me this at such a young age. As my parents were relaying this earth shattering information to me it felt like I was drowning inside my own body while my heart was being squeezed in a vice. I sat there, staring at them until I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran to my room and cried myself to sleep. After they told me, I didn’t talk to either of them for weeks. I was so scared that anything I did would directly result in my dad having a seizure and dying that I didn’t even want to look at him. I avoided him when I was home, and I even went as far to try and not even think about him. But trying not to think about something definitely made me think about it 20 times more. I was terrified. Learning about my dad’s poor health took him from a commanding 6’4” figure to something fragile and breakable.
Knowing the severity of my father’s health problems affected our relationship in many ways. I never wanted to get too close to him because I was worried I would not be able to handle his death if we were too close. But at the same time I felt the need to get to know him as much as possible because he could be gone any second. My relationship with my dad was never bad, he’s a great guy, a genuinely nice and fun person to be around. But I never let myself get too close. I kept him at a distance and kept myself closed off in order to spare any future hurt. The constant back and forth in my mind of wanting to be close to him and wanting to stay away ultimately resulted in years of me ignoring him.
It took me from that day in 2004 until 2020 to realize that in doing this I was more or less robbing both myself and my dad from a genuine and positive father daughter relationship. It is hard to live with a parent who has a serious health problem, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop and for them to be gone. You may want to close yourself off to protect your heart from any hurt, but it will be even harder to realize that you shouldn’t have closed yourself off so completely after it’s too late and they’re gone.
Talking with my dad about this has been the biggest help of all. I wish I had done it sooner, but I am glad I’ve done it now and I will genuinely cherish every moment I get to spend with my dad. He is a great person and the one I go to when I need any advice. I know he will be there for me whenever I need him. He’s always been there even if I didn’t accept it. I’m glad that now I am at a place in my life where I can be there for him just as much as he is for me.